


For The First time

by wildchildmonaghan (codenamemoony)



Category: Justified RPF
Genre: M/M, half assed smut?, idk what the fuck this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9965750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codenamemoony/pseuds/wildchildmonaghan
Summary: A new ship, and a new chance to humiliate myself. Walton and Tim like to beat the shit out each other and have sex after... but Tim's known from the jump that it's more than hate sex. I am in no way shitting on their marriages, I love the way they love their wives, but this was the only way to have them hook up without them cheating. Don't kill me.





	

The first time they throw down, Timothy is left baffled by how he could be so explosive and aggressive, how he can be so savage with someone he thinks so highly of. That’s also the first time they bed each other, though, and Tim learns the long mysterious difference between making love to someone and flat out fucking them. The most important lesson he learns though… is that his relationship with Walton is never going to be the same again. **  
**

They are bickering, because it happens. When you’ve been friends as long as they have, spending long hours playing best friends who just like them… are always at one another’s throats. He can’t tell you what the fight is about, why he was mad or what sets it all off, but he remembers the moment that he snaps. They are still hurling insults at each other, tossing threats and talking a good game when Walt makes his fatal mistake, a handful of words that send Timothy into a rage.

“This lack of propriety might have been the straw that broke the camel’s back, Timothy. The way you talk, well that’s just plain unacceptable, ain’t it?”

And it connects in his brain that Walton isn’t talking about himself- he’s talking about Alexis, who recently filed for an actual divorce. He snaps, the coils that have been holding him in place exploding as he hurls himself at Walton, knocking him to the ground.

From that moment, it’s a whirlwind of flying limbs, curses and hollers, both men struggling to get at the other, and the carnage can only be described as savage. There is blood flying with the garbled words, and it’s easy to forget that these men are people who care for one another. It doesn’t last long- or maybe it does, maybe that’s why come morning, they can’t move without stiff muscles and bruises that blossom from places they didn’t know could be bruised.

And when it’s over, there’s a moment of silence. Only one, as Walton glares down at him, still settled on his chest, a beat before Tim is pushing to get away, scrambling to stand up and struggling to breathe. He’s not paying attention, so when Walt comes close, he’s sure they’re about to be brawling on the floor again. He never would have guessed Walt would do what he does next… but it's not a bad surprise.

He moves fast, pushing up onto his balls of his feet, reaching to grab Tim’s head, pulling him in and… kisses him? He kisses him. His lips are soft, but sticky from blood, and Tim doesn’t give half a shit as he kisses back, the motion just as savage and hard as the fight, hands grabbing and pulling and desperation marking the way they try to get closer. He’s made out with a man before, knows Walton has too, but that had been for work. This is different, this is making out with his best friend, moments after whupping his ass.

Maybe that’s why the natural seeing evolution in the motions is when they start ripping at each other’s clothes, struggling to get them off, throwing them aside and colliding once they are bared for the other to see, skin hot and swollen and sore from the fight, bloodied in spots, and it still somehow feels sweet. It feels intimate, and precious, the way they cradle and pet and kiss and the teeth in his neck feel far more like ‘Please don’t let go’ than ‘You’re a piece of shit’ and he forgot that something can feel so tender, even if it’s sore too.

Looking back, he can’t remember what made him cross the line, grabbing Walton by the hips and grinding up against him, mouth hot on his shoulders as he digs for a rubber, fumbling through opening it and getting it on, far more concentration poured into preparing Walt for what’s coming than worrying about anything to do with himself.

The initial relief when the heat surrounds him and Walton cries out in something that doesn’t sound like pain makes his face wet for a different reason, hands cradling hips as he sets a brutal rhythm, only stopping when he needs to adjust, be face to face with him, staring him down as he let’s a free hand draw the beautiful chaos that is Walton Goggins up to the edge… then shoves him from it, the soft guttural sound he makes enough to send Tim right after him, arms pulling him in and then shoving him away, both of them too weak to stand through aftershocks, collapsing on the floor and fighting to breathe again.

It’s a while before he can breathe without a struggle, but something strikes him… and it’s pretty fucking scary. Laying there, in Walton’s bed, cleaned up and holding the slumbering, battered, sated younger man in his arms, he knows this wasn’t what it looked like. If it had been observed, it would have looked like a nice, hard hate fuck. Two people who needed to let the tension die before they can back to normal.

But Tim can’t shake the feeling as he studies his best friend’s face, serene in his sleep despite the obvious split lip and eye starting to turn a dark blue… that this was the first time he felt that connection that is what makes the difference between mindless sex… and making love. He loved his wife, with every fiber of who he was, he had… but never had sex felt that way with her. He would feel a bubble of delight, a surge of content, yes. But in that moment, leaning down to kiss sleep-smiling lips, his heart had never been this full.

Was he in love with Walton? He couldn’t say. He loved him, for damn certain… and this moment, the moments before it… they’d been the dearest he’d ever felt, and he’s not sure he wants to leave this bed, or this man… but is that what being in love feels like? Because if so, he’s never really been in it before and it’s fucking terrifying. Being in love with your best friend is how lives are ruined.

He pushes it away, and come morning, with soft kisses and apologies, and the bustle of them tending to one another, he decides to make this a habit. If he has to beat the shit out of him to get to love him just as passionately, he’ll do it. It’s easier than saying anything about the way his chest tightens and the way his heart races. They makes a deal and as he walks away, the only real rule keeps echoing in his head, taunting him.

> _Don’t let yourself catch feelings- this is just for fun._

He’s never been happier to be a goddamn actor.


End file.
